


Character Arcs

by flyingisland



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, request, shizudota
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 23:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6587605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingisland/pseuds/flyingisland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were leaning against Saburo’s van the very first time that Shizuo kissed him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Character Arcs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fumis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fumis/gifts).



They were leaning against Saburo’s van the very first time that Shizuo kissed him.

It wasn’t a particularly interesting day before that—no more or less fighting, no extra trouble, no Orihara Izaya running around and making everyone miserable. Erika and Walker were propped against the brick walls of the car wash, thumbing through a manga with cracks lining the spine, arguing over something that Kadota was positive that they’d argued about a thousand times before, as Saburo fiddled with the change in his pocket to start the hoses.

He’d claimed that the automatic wash always left streaks, and despite the empty eyes of the anime character adorning his newly-replaced door, he seemed to take great care in making sure that his van looked as nice as possible. He’d been eyeing Shizuo suspiciously since he'd wandered over almost an hour ago—waiting for him to dent it, maybe, or to rip off the other door, and if Shizuo were to actually do that…

He wasn’t sure if anything would happen anyway.

Saburo cares for his van as though it were his child, but he’s not stupid. His life is more important, surely, than the easily replaceable pieces of his vehicle.

Shizuo had ambled over soapy puddles, hands in his pockets as he’d nodded his hellos. They didn’t talk about much of anything, as Shizuo had never been one for conversation anyway. Right as they’d settled into a comfortable silence, he’d clicked his tongue, pushing himself off of the van and leaning in toward Kadota.

“Hey,” he’d breathed, the ghost of old cigarettes hanging in the air around him.

And he’d kissed Kadota then, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

It didn’t last too long—the connection of soft, tobacco-flavored lips against his own, the warmth that seemed to transfer between them, the gust of breath against his cheeks and the rumbling of his heart in his ears.

Shizuo had pulled away, a strange look settling across his features.

“Hm,” the blond had hummed, pensive, brows furrowed.

And he’d stuffed his hands back in his pockets, offering only a small shrug.

“I’ll see you around.”

He’d walked away just as casually as he’d come, leaving Kadota behind with hot cheeks, heart thundering in his chest as he’d whipped his head right in Erika’s direction to make sure that she hadn’t seen.

She hadn’t, thankfully, but that was definitely not the end of it.

Whatever Shizuo had in mind, it seemed as though he was determined to out Kadota to his perverted little net of friends no matter what it took.

Time passed slowly. Shizuo didn’t visit him every day or even every week. He would hear rumors about the blond, of course. He’d thrown a man from the streets into the third-story window of an apartment building. He’d punched someone so hard that they’d swallowed fifteen teeth. He’d flipped a bus in a rage and nearly killed forty-three people in the resounding collision.

 He’s not so sure, even now, how realistic all of those stories were. He takes every ounce of gossip about Shizuo with a grain of salt, knowing his acquaintance at least well enough to understand that he would never actually kill anyone.

It’s been two months now, and he hasn’t seen Shizuo in fifteen days. He’s not exactly keeping track, but he isn’t ignoring the passing of time either. Last time, Shizuo had kissed him longer than usual. He’d asked, ignoring the looming danger of the blond’s temper, why Shizuo was doing this, but he hadn’t gotten his answer.

Only a scoff, a familiar furrowing of his brows, and another _“So long”._

Erika is talking about her cosplay club, asking for volunteers for some sort of event that they’re attending. They need eight men to accompany them, and at least one of them has to be tall, she says.

“Dotachin, seriously,” she croons in a voice that isn’t at all serious, “If you won’t do it, can you ask Shizu-chan? He’s been talking to you a lot lately. Are you guys—“

“Do you really think Shizuo would dress up for something like that?”

As long as Erika has known Shizuo, he’s always been wearing his bartender’s uniforms. Kadota can still remember high school, tracing those spindly limbs underneath the thick, tattered material of his uniform with his eyes. He can still recall the way that the color of it had brought out the lively shades of Shizuo’s skin, not so washed out as black and white. He can’t complain. Shizuo would probably look good in anything, but the thought of him dressed up in some elaborate cosplay outfit is causing a disturbing heat to settle in the pits of his belly.

“He might if Dotachin asked him,” Erika coos, placing a hand against her mouth as though she’s uttering a big secret, “He sure seems to like spending time with you!”

He worries for a moment that she might have seen them kissing, but he knows that she’s too excitable to keep that to herself for so long. She doesn’t understand how right she is and she never will. Until Shizuo reveals what exactly his intentions are, Kadota is more than happy to keep their little interactions under wraps.

They’re sitting around a small round table in front of a fast food restaurant. He and Saburo have pulled their chairs under the table, barely squeezing in as they’d divvied out the food.

It’s never quite peaceful among them, but this—just sitting here together, eating and talking, joking and arguing—it feels about as close to tranquility as they might ever get.

And as though he’s sensed the use of his name, Shizuo wanders by. He’s without his boss, without the little bag that he carries on the job, and he doesn’t seem to have any devious missions in mind. He might be headed home. It’s pretty late, after all.

“Shizu-chan!” Erika calls, no tact, no real filter at all.

He turns immediately, scanning the nervously parting crowd with a scowl stretching his lips. Kadota slumps down in his chair a little, hoping not to find anything in Shizuo’s eyes when he spots them, hoping that maybe the blond will ignore them completely and carry on with his night.

No such luck, he’s winding along the sidewalk toward them. He doesn’t smile or nod, doesn’t give any indication that he's heard Erika aside from the frown that is still tugging at his mouth.

“Shizu-chan! Shizu-chan, hey,” Erika is calling out, reaching her arms toward the approaching man as she bobs up and down in her seat, “Dotachin is coming to a cosplay meetup with me this weekend and he needs a Genos to his Saitama!”

Shizuo looks at her as though she’s grown a second head, coming to rest only a few footfalls away from their table.

“Wait,” she mutters, hand on her chin, “With Shizu-chan’s strength, he would need to be Saitama, but… with his good looks, he would be Genos.”

Walker interjects angrily, demanding that Shizuo’s strength easily overtakes his good looks as his defining character trait.

“His headline would be _Ikebukuro’s Strongest_ , not _Ikebukuro’s Most Handsome!_ Stop letting your fujoshi ideologies taint Shizuo’s character arc! He’s the hero, obviously, learning to overcome his strength and find the love of a green-haired big sister type! Her gigantic breasts are no match for his brawn and—“

Kadota pointedly tunes them out, turning to offer Shizuo a meek greeting as Saburo begins the daunting task of breaking up Walker and Erika’s disagreement.  

“I want to talk to you,” Shizuo says simply, ignoring the bickering, Saburo’s angry whispered demands for the two to cut it out, and the color that is burning very hot against Kadota’s skin, “Not here.”

Kadota rises from the table so quickly that it wobbles against the ground, stopped only by Saburo’s tight grip against the edge, just in time. Kadota tells himself that he’ll buy his friend a full tank of gas later for the quick save. He might know what’s going on, by the looks he’s shooting between the two of them, but he says nothing about it. Kadota thinks he might just pay for the next three tankfuls.

Shuffling away from the group, he stumbles forward. Shizuo doesn’t wait for him to catch up before he saunters around the corner of the building. There are still people on this side, eating and talking, watching the two of them carefully. He worries momentarily that Shizuo will try to kiss him again in front of an audience.

“Kadota,” the blond greets, looking off into the dark corners of the street, eyes sparkling with the reflection of the restaurant’s lights through the windows.

Silence hangs between them as he gets a handle on the thumping in his chest. Shizuo looks as casual as ever, fumbling for his cigarettes as Kadota watches the way his long fingers grapple with the packaging and his half-empty throw-away lighter.

“I’ve been kissing you a lot,” he continues simply, as though this is the most normal thing in the world, “You don’t get it, right?”

There are so many words lodged in the deepest depths of his throat. He wheezes out a noise, hating himself for it, wishing that maybe he could be even half as aloof as Shizuo in these situations that would make a normal person too embarrassed to comprehend.

“I don’t get it either. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I don’t get it. I wanted to kiss you, so I did. But I still don’t get it.”

There’s not much talking after that. Shizuo seems to have said his piece. He doesn’t make to leave or to lean forward. He smokes and he watches the people as they pass by. He seems to be waiting for Kadota to reply.

He does, eventually.

“I... I think this means that you have a crush on me, Shizuo,” he presses, nerves concentrated right in the center of his chest, shaking his hands in his pockets and croaking each of his words as they leave his mouth, “And I haven’t tried to stop you, so…”

Trailing off, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to finish that sentence no matter how long they stand here together. He can hear Erika crying out, the highs and lows of her tone cutting through the separate conversions around them.

_“Dotachin and Shizu-chan wandered off together?! Is Shizu-chan cheating on Iza-chan?!”_

He cringes, chancing a look at Shizuo, rattled with fear that’s quelled only by the serene expression that hasn’t yet left the other man’s face.

“I guess I have a crush on you,” Shizuo sighs, still not looking him in the eye, “You’re tough. I don’t think it would be easy to hurt you, so it’s fine.”

Kadota isn’t sure if those words are supposed to be romantic or not.

 _‘Well, you’re good enough’,_ is what it sounds like, but he’s not sure if he’ll get anything better than that.

Shizuo looks as though he’s ready to leave, and Kadota resists the urge to invite him over for the remainder of their dinner. The restaurant will be closing in half an hour, and he isn’t particularly interested in inconveniencing the poor workers twice in one night. Erika and Walker are a handful in any situation, and ordering food is no different.

“I’ll see you arou—“

“Wait,” Kadota cuts him off, pausing only to regret this decision. He’s not too keen on all of Shizuo’s many triggers, and interrupting _anyone_ is rude. He almost apologizes, but stops himself. He’s " _tough”._ Shizuo might withdraw his confession if Kadota proves himself as anything but that.

“Were you asking me out?” He asks finally, kicking himself internally. That is definitely not what Shizuo was doing. He can’t imagine what that would even look like, if Shizuo has ever asked anyone out in his life, but that’s definitely not what his confession was supposed to be.

He finds himself wondering if Shizuo has ever taken the time to notice anyone else as much as he’s noticed him. He wonders if he might be the first person that the blond has ever had feelings for at all.

“I guess,” Shizuo huffs, taking a long drag, smoke billowing from his lips as he lets the words roll out, “Do you want that?”

He’s not sure how he feels about being pursued like this. He’s a man, and men aren’t usually the ones getting chased after and asked out. He feels as though he should be the one asking these questions. He should be the one causing Shizuo’s heart to race.

“U-uh, yeah, sure,” he blurts. He can see Erika burning holes in their faces around the corner with her nosy, unabashed stare, “That sounds… good.”

They walk a little further. Shizuo hangs back. He seems almost intimidated by Kadota’s group of friends, as though he isn’t ready to find his rank among them just yet. It’s a silly thought. Surely, Shizuo isn’t afraid of anything. Why would he be?

“I guess we’re dating then,” Shizuo draws out, tucking his cigarette into a tiny envelope and slipping it back into his breast-pocket, “So it’s okay if I do this here.”

And he leans in, for the billionth time, pressing a gentle kiss against Kadota’s lips.

Erika’s cries are shrill daggers tearing into his stomach. There’s a clatter as Saburo knocks over the empty chair. Walker lets out a sinister laugh, as though he’s already formulating some abstract reality in which this is the norm.

Shizuo is halfway down the sidewalk by the time he composes himself. The blond doesn’t wave goodbye or turn to smile back at him. It’s not like one of Erika and Walker’s manga—a romantic meeting of eyes, a pact between lovers to see each other every day for the rest of their lives. His phone beeps, vibrating softly against his side.

As he’s rounding the table, silently seating himself, determined to ignore everyone’s questions, he checks his texts.

_‘Heiwajima Shizuo (17/04/16: 22:00): Come by my place tonight.’_

He chooses not to reply, but he can already feel himself being bound to this obligation. He’s not sure what they’ll do and he refuses to think about it. In his bluntness, in his utter refusal to beat around the bush or waste his own time playing games, Heiwajima Shizuo has painted himself as an odd mystery of a man.

Kadota still isn’t sure what he’s getting out of all of this. Why him? Why now? What’s changed between them that has brought the blond so willingly into his life after so many years of ignoring the awkward pining in the most secret parts of his heart?

He doesn’t have an answer for any of that. Erika bangs a palm on the table, so worked up that her cheeks are stained red.

“Did you ask Shizu-chan about the cosplay meetup?!” she screeches, a mixture of annoyance and absolute bliss hinting at the edges of each word, “He has to be Genos now! Genos is the only one who really understands what a hero Saitama is and the only one who can get close enough—“

Saburo is sending him a series of confused and absolutely infuriated looks. It’s about his van, of course. They both know this. Saburo is terrified about the fate of his beloved van. Their group alone is bad enough, but introducing a tornado such as Heiwajima? He’ll be lucky if it’s even running at the end of the week.

That’s what he’s thinking, at least, but Kadota doesn’t plan on forcing Shizuo anywhere near them until Erika calms down. Shizuo is skittish about these things, he knows. He distances himself from other people for fear of hurting them. If his hunch is correct, Shizuo might have been working up the courage to ask him out since high school.

“Kadota,” Walker hums, head tilted to the side as the slits of his eyes glint in the night, “Do you think this might be the end of Shizuo’s arc?”

It’s a weird thing to hear, but he can’t say that he’s particularly surprised. In all of his strangeness, Walker allows tiny glimpses of his inner wisdom to peek through, sometimes. He lives in a cloud of his own fantasies, but he watches the world, high above it in his dreams. He understands that Shizuo struggles. He knows that Kadota has loved him all along.

Somehow, he knows. And Kadota is realizing this just now.

He doesn’t offer a reply, only unwraps his now-cold burger and takes a bite. He thinks of Shizuo waiting at his apartment. He imagines the blond picking up a few magazines from the floor, looking at the drinks he has stocked in his fridge. He wonders if Shizuo is nervous about this too, if he’s just better at hiding it.

And he wonders if maybe this is actually the end—a good one, for both of them.

Shizuo has lived most of his life in fear of destroying anything that finds its way into his grasp. Kadota has quivered under the weight of so many lives on his shoulders. Both of them, with their individual hang-ups, their unique struggles, their very own plot-lines and cliffhangers, their ups and their downs, their characters arcs and their blurry beginnings.

He doesn’t know all of Shizuo’s story. He doesn’t know how his massive strength came to be, or how he grew into the man he is today. Shizuo doesn’t know of his father’s fights with the yakuza, the shoes he has to fill to earn his family name.

He doesn’t know where his plot really started, which moment he might remember as the dawning of his being or the times that he considers growth and loss, joyous and sad, but he does know one thing.

Shizuo’s tale and his own—

He wants them to end in the same place.

A happy ending, together. 

**Author's Note:**

> So! I hosted another little "contest" of sorts on tumblr. Another guessing game, and a user called "aceizaya" was one of three users who guessed correctly! Their request was simply, "dotashizu would be nice! as for the prompt, can it be up to you?" which I think might be a lesson to everyone not to leave the plots up to me because you'll be left with... whatever this is.
> 
> It was incredibly entertaining to write! And somehow one of the few stories tagged under this pairing on this site? I'm not sure how that happened, but now I'm feeling as though maybe no one is actually interested in this sort of thing. Oh well! I love writing Walker and Erika. They're so much fun.


End file.
